Riptide: Exploring the Undercurrents of Spiritual Abuse

In the tapestry of my youth, woven with threads of evangelical fervor, there existed a vibrant, albeit tumultuous, community known as RIPTIDE. This was my youth group. Anchored in the heart of Montana, our youth group embodied a fervent spirit, guided by a charismatic pastor whose sermons blended humor, conviction, and consistent altar calls that would have convinced anyone that even Mother Theresa was in danger of hellfire if she didn’t go to the front and “recommit her life to Christ.”

From the tender age of 12, I found myself swept up in the tide of RIPTIDE's enthusiasm. Engaged in every facet of our congregation, from leading worship to mentoring peers, I embraced our mission, which was to be "Radicals In Position To Invade Darkness Everywhere"-what the acronym RIPTIDE stood for.  Beyond the fact that the name and mission sounded like a cheesy rebrand for an elite military unit, it was ironic that our group was identified by a natural phenomenon that most of us in land-locked Montana knew very little about.  Yet, the name was perhaps truer than we knew, just for very different reasons than we believed. Beneath our zeal, community, passion, and excitement was a subtle yet dangerous undercurrent, one that would eventually pull me into waters that were utterly damaging to my developing body and spiritual being.

The teachings I sat under and internalized week after week, carried the weight of expectation and spiritual performance, purity culture messages urging me to shun the pitfalls of dating, cover up my body so that I don’t tempt my brother’s in Christ, and view any hint of complicated emotions like anger, desire, or sadness as a battleground for spiritual warfare. Our lives were steeped in vigilance, our sanctuary found solely within the sanctuary walls.

For years, I navigated these waters with unwavering devotion, believing them to be the path to salvation. But as time wore on, cracks began to appear in the facade of my faith. The fear of damnation, the shame surrounding my body, the relentless pursuit of perfection—these currents eroded my sense of self, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty and exhaustion. I finally grew tired of fighting the undertow.

I was solidly in my mid-thirties, having left the teachings of that youth group and other similar religious groups over a decade prior, when I began to recognize the true extent of the trauma I had endured. (This is after I had gone to graduate school and become a therapist to help “other people” with their trauma. Ha.) Like so many who tread similar waters, I had been ensnared by the very teachings meant to guide me. Even as an adult who had landed in a much more historically grounded, theologically nuanced, and safe spiritual community, I continued to bear to the trauma in my body that I had intellectually tried to banish to the past. It showed up in the ways I disassociated from my body, distrusting my intuitive sense of knowing. The trauma was alive in my disordered eating patterns and hatred for my physical body. It manifested in my visceral anger and agitation any time I heard messages that sounded familiar to the dogma I had grown up with. It showed up in the ways I would numb out through social media or check out of my emotions by escaping to intellectual pursuits, desperately trying to just “figure out” mentally what I actually believed. It showed up in the ways I could never really have an answer to the question “what do YOU want?”.

Years into this journey of healing, I have little by little begun to discover the hope and integration that for so many years I longed to believe was real and available to me. To heal, we cannot dismiss our experiences or try to forget them. In fact, that is impossible. Even if we do not have the explicit memories, our bodies carry these memories and are longing for us to engage these stories with compassion, tenderness, acceptance, and love. Healing from trauma of any kind is difficult, but it so very possible. It is woven into the fabric of our beings, and our bodies know how to do this work, though sometimes it takes being thrown a life raft, finding your way to solid ground, and discovering what spiritual safety actually is. And, I can tell you this. It is NOT manipulative, full of fear, demanding, exhausting, and demoralizing. It does NOT require you to abandon your embodied way of knowing, your full range of emotions, your questions, your doubt, your wrestling. Healthy, integrated spirituality is ultimately healing, protective, safe, full of compassion and embraces the wholeness of who you are- not the diminishment of you.

Many of us have experienced some form of spiritual abuse and in adulthood are reckoning with the damage and confusion that has come from this. This is sacred, courageous work. While it is intensely personal (no two experiences are exactly alike), it is also a journey that is difficult to navigate alone. Safe companions who have themselves walked this path and will be with you as you untangle the cords and barbs of spiritual trauma are invaluable. I know because I have and continue to work through the nuances of my story with a wise, trauma informed therapist and a trained spiritual director. If you are longing to have someone help you walk through this journey of healing, consider reaching out to set up a phone consultation and see if coaching or spiritual direction may be right for you in this season. You do not have to go through this journey of healing alone.